


A VanderMorgan Christmas.~

by TheWolfWithinMe



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 05:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17156405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWithinMe/pseuds/TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: Just fluff.Fluffff.





	A VanderMorgan Christmas.~

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas!
> 
> Needed to write something fluffier for Christmas than the angst fest of my other fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Snow was falling in thick heavy clumps, covering every surface that it came in contact with. 

And this just so happened to include Arthur Morgan. 

Traversing the mountains was already a challenge, what with the abundance of hidden drops and crevices, as well as the ice that looked strong enough to hold your weight, but then decided to give way as soon as your other foot was set down, sending you plunging into the icy depths below. 

Which is exactly what happened to Arthur only half an hour ago whilst he was out hunting deer. 

At least his horse seemed to find it amusing. She pawed at the ground and gave a soft huff, then threw her head back and whinnied loudly, causing her owner to glare in her direction. 

He didn’t even have a deer to show for his efforts. Just wet clothes and a bruised ego. 

Not wanting to catch a cold — or worse — he decided to abandon his hunting trip and head back to camp. 

“C’mon girl,” He muttered, hauling himself into the saddle and flinching at how cold it was on his already freezing ass. 

He wanted nothing more than a hot bath, maybe he’d splurge and get deluxe, and a warm brandy. 

Yet here he was, out on some god forsaken mountain, soaked to the skin. With his own loyal steed laughing at him. 

Humph. 

The trip back to camp took a while, his horse struggling in some of the deeper snowdrifts, but eventually he saw cabins and lights on the horizon, silently guiding him home. The other horses were tethered and covered in a blanket of fresh snow. Even The Count looked more ghostly than usual. 

Hitching his mount beside Bill’s, he awkwardly slid off the saddle with a loud squelching noise and waddled towards the biggest cabin. 

As soon as he had passed over the threshold, someone had him up against the wall. A sprig of mistletoe was held over his head before warm, familiar lips connected with his own. The kiss was lingering, and although his entire body was physically numb from the cold, he felt nothing but warmth inside. 

His cheeks flushed, and his mouth fell into a disappointed pout when the other finally pulled away. 

“Welcome back, son.” 

That voice, which reminded him of home and the better days, filled his heart with even more warmth. He slumped against the wall and took a deep breath, all the while Dutch was staring at him fondly. 

“And... Merry Christmas.”

He had barely let Arthur recover before pulling him in close. “Need a hand getting out of these clothes?” 

Arthur just gave a small, nervous nod. There were other members of the gang around them, drinking, partying, enjoying what little food and warmth they had, and yet Dutch didn’t seem reserved. Or embarrassed. 

In fact, there was another look in his eyes. Hunger. Need. Desire. 

“I haven’t given you your present yet either.~” He hummed, taking Arthur by the hand and leading him towards the bedroom. 

Merry Christmas indeed.


End file.
